


When doves cry

by fangirl2013



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Hurt, Spoilers, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7107433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl2013/pseuds/fangirl2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's broken. Shattered. Ready to fall. Thankfully, Jon Snow is ready to catch her. Will her brother be able to help her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When doves cry

**Author's Note:**

> This is angsty. Please forgive me.

The warmth of the roaring fire filled the dark room. Sansa, for the first time in weeks, was not cold or freezing. She didn't long for warmth. Her hands shook as she held her tankard of ale but it had little to do with the cold outside. Her body, as young as it was, was aching. She could easily imagine blue, almost black bruises scattered across her body. Despite her curiosity, she dare not look. The memories were enough. Glimpsing at her "lord husband's" handiwork would be too much too bear. 

Closing her tear filled eyes, Sansa let out a shaky, unsteady breath. Her mind instantly filled with unwelcome memories. The feeling of his fingers running up and down her previously unblemished body making her want to run. She felt his cold hand still as he had reached for the blade but it was only when she felt the cold, sharp edge of it digging into the flesh of her back did she start to panic. Imaging what the pain would be like if he cut her, she tried not to sob. She tried not to move at all. 

"My beautiful wife. My perfect, perfect wife." Bolton's voice was soft, almost as if he was purring to her. His breath tickled her neck as he spoke. His tone was almost loving. If it was not for him pinning her to the bed or the blade, she could have pretended be loved her. As his grip on her wrist tightened, she had no such pretense. 

Her mouth dropped open in surprise as she felt him cut into her. Pain rain through her body like bolts of lightening. A helpless, pained moan escaped her and she found her tears had broken free. 

"Sansa?" The voice was soft but nothing like the one she had been remembering. Her eyes flicked open in a moment. Stood by her side, towering above her, was Jon. His dark, troubled eyes were full of concern. His hand lay at her shoulder. 

She tried to smile. To force the muscles in her face to comply with her wishes. It was impossible to do. They were stiff and unyielding and she only managed a slight grimace. With knowing eyes, Jon took the empty seat next to her. The old, worn wood creaking underneath his weight as he did.

The sound of the fire as it crackled was all that disturbed them as they sat. The silence between was not uncomfortable. If anything, it felt almost comforting. It was as at this thought did Sansa openly break down. Her tears were violent as they lashed down her pale, tired cheeks and sobs raked her chest. The awful sound of her gasping for breath captured Jon's ears instantly. 

He moved from his seat within a moment. His arms found her as he embraced her tightly. His hand stroked her hair as he held her. He found himself murmuring promises as he did. Slowly, far too slow for Jon's conscience, Sansa's crying eased. 

"What's he done to you, little sister?" He asked her, softly, almost as if he didn't want to scare her. Almost as if she was a innocent little bird he didn't want to frighten away....

He felt her flinch at the mention of Ramsay Bolton and he marvelled at the sight. His strong, fierce sister (who had earlier talked of revenge) had been replaced. Sansa looked fragile. 

"I can't. I'll carry the scars to the day I die and my soul retires from this world. I can't tell you, I can't bare it." She murmured to him, her eyes once again filling with tears.

Within his arms, she covered her face with her hands. Jon quickly noticed just red and sore they were. Her once beautiful, long nails were gone. They had been bitten down to the nail bed. Had his beautiful half sister done it to keep herself calm? It seemed more than likely. It filled him with anger. She should never have been in the position to begin with. It all had gone so wrong. 

His heart ached as he thought of the family he longed for. A memory of Arya flickered in his mind. Her arm wrapped around him, needle in her free one. She'd smelled of sunshine. Sunshine and innocence. 

"Do you think we'll ever see them again?" He asked her, not needing to elaborate on who "them" were. His voice was gruff with the emotion he felt. Sansa turned to look at him as she broke a little away from his arms.

For the first time since he had entered the room, she smiled. It was genuine and utterly sincere. She almost looked like the carefree Sansa he remembered her to be. It was only the bruises peeking over the colour of the dress which shattered the illusion. 

"Of course. They'll find their way back to us. I did with you. No matter what happens, we're family." She smiled as she talked, pride flowing through her words. 

A lump gathered at the back of his throat as he heard her words. He felt, for the first time in his life, a Stark. He was not a Snow. He felt included. He hugged her tighter as he marvelled at the feeling. 

"Aye. That we are."


End file.
